Kaela stood at the edge of the plaza, her eyes fixed on the Nexus Tower—a monolith of shimmering obsidian rising into the sky, its surface alive with flowing holograms. The air buzzed with faint hums of synchronized devices, a melody only those tuned into the system could hear. Around her, the crowd moved with purpose, their neural headsets glowing faintly at their temples, heads tilted slightly as if listening to a distant, unseen voice.
Even the children were tethered, their tiny visors flashing bursts of color as they laughed at games only they could see. A world within a world. This was 2105, where reality was negotiable and virtual life had become an expectation.
Kaela adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped forward. Her gaze flickered to the glass skywalk above, where drones zipped back and forth, delivering packages faster than a human could blink. Below, an autonomous cab purred to a stop, the only audible sound in an otherwise hushed city.
Everywhere, people seemed connected—plugged into something larger, something bigger—but Kaela felt the weight of disconnection. She pulled her neural headset from her pocket and stared at its sleek, metallic curve. It felt heavier than it should.
"This is your moment, Kaela," she murmured to herself, her voice drowned in the hum of the plaza.
She was late.
"Welcome to LIMBUS," a voice purred the moment she entered the Nexus building. The AI's voice was calm, inviting, but carried a subtle authority that made Kaela's stomach tighten. "Your doorway to a better you. Please prepare for neural synchronization. Your journey begins now."
The lobby gleamed with artificial perfection—white walls glowing softly, floors so polished they reflected her hesitant steps. Other users lined up ahead of her, stepping into sleek pods with practiced ease. Kaela hesitated, her fingers brushing against the cool metal band of her headset.
Better me, huh? Wonder what that looks like.
She was here because she didn't have a choice.
Her life—her real life—was a series of blank days and sleepless nights. The doctors called it emotional dissociation, a polite way of saying she felt nothing. She'd tried the meds, the meditation, the therapies. But this? This was the last stop.
The program promised more than just escape. It promised healing. "Fragments of Self," they called it—a cutting-edge VR therapy designed to rebuild what was broken. The process was simple: the system scanned your mind, identified the emotional gaps, and scattered them across a custom-designed virtual world. You retrieved them piece by piece, learning about yourself along the way.
Simple in theory.
Kaela tightened her grip on the headset and moved to the next available pod.
---
Inside the VR Pod:
The moment Kaela sat down, the system hummed to life, locking her in place with a faint hiss. The visor lowered over her eyes, sealing her vision with a blank blackness. Her breathing quickened.
Before Kaela could fully process what lay ahead, a calm, professional voice echoed through the chamber.
"The neural synchronization will commence shortly. Please direct your attention to the screen in front of you for important information regarding the procedure."
A short video began to play, its visuals a mix of sleek animations and reassuring clips of smiling participants. The narration continued, warm yet clinical:
"Welcome to the Neural Synchronization Interface. This groundbreaking technology boasts a success rate of over 92%, allowing participants to seamlessly integrate into the virtual environment. Within this space, you will embark on a personalized journey designed to unlock your potential, recover lost fragments, and explore uncharted dimensions of self-discovery."
The video shifted to instructions, highlighting calm breathing techniques and the importance of remaining relaxed during the synchronization process.
"Upon entering, follow the guide provided within your program. The environment will adapt to your choices, and you will retain full agency throughout the experience. Should you encounter any distress, a neural recalibration option is available for immediate assistance."
As the video concluded, the room dimmed, and Kaela felt the soft hum of the synchronization device envelop her. The line between reality and the unknown began to blur.
"Synchronization commencing in three... two... one."
Kaela's heart pounded as a tingling sensation crept up the back of her neck, spreading into her temples. For a brief moment, she was afraid—afraid she'd be stuck here, afraid she'd disappear entirely into this machine. But then...
She fell
---
As Kaela's body was drawn into the VR, a sensation of weightlessness overcame her, and the hum of synchronization faded into silence.
When her senses stabilized, she found herself standing in a world of pure obsidian black. The void stretched endlessly in every direction, swallowing light and sound alike.
Beneath her feet, however, was something tangible—a dark, reflective surface, smooth yet rippling gently like liquid glass each time she shifted her weight. The undulating waves mirrored her movements, creating an almost hypnotic dance of light and shadow.
Though the environment was oppressive in its emptiness, the slope she stood upon offered a faint, ethereal glow, like a guiding beacon in the dark. It wasn't overpowering, but enough to contrast against the infinite void surrounding her.
Kaela took a cautious step forward, and the ripples extended outward, shimmering faintly before dissipating into the darkness. She paused, gazing at her reflection distorted in the liquid-like surface, the only recognizable shape in the otherwise featureless expanse.
As Kaela gazed at her distorted reflection in the rippling surface, a faint whisper broke the silence, threading through the void like a breeze:
"You're late, you know."
She spun around, searching for the source, but the voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once. A soft glow appeared in the distance, growing brighter as it approached.
From the shadows emerged a small, white, fluffy cat, its fur almost luminous against the oppressive blackness. It padded silently across the reflective surface, ripples radiating outward with each delicate step. Its deep, impossibly blue eyes met hers, and its voice returned—though its mouth didn't move.
"Took you long enough. I've been waiting."
Kaela blinked, stunned. "You're… a cat?"
The creature flicked its tail with a hint of indignation. "Not just a cat. I'm your guide. Your interface. Call me whatever you like, as long as it's not 'fluffy.'" It sat primly, raising a paw to smooth its already immaculate fur.
Kaela crouched cautiously, her reflection rippling beside the cat's glowing form. "So… what do I do now?"
The cat tilted its head, a playful glint in its eyes. "You follow me, of course. If you want answers—and your fragments—you'd better keep up."
Before she could respond, the cat turned and began walking, its glowing form illuminating a path that hadn't been there moments ago. The ripples beneath its paws shimmered faintly, revealing glimpses of strange symbols and shapes beneath the surface before fading into darkness.
Kaela followed the glowing white cat, its soft steps carving a shimmering path through the void. The rippling surface beneath her feet reflected faint, fleeting images—like memories slipping through her fingers. Her reflection, fractured and distorted, stared back at her from the undulating black, as though questioning her resolve.
The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft padding of the cat ahead of her.
"You're awfully quiet," the cat said without turning around, its voice casual but probing. "Thinking about something, aren't you?"
Kaela hesitated, her gaze fixed on the glowing ripples left in the cat's wake. "I didn't want to be here."
The admission hung in the air, swallowed quickly by the void. Yet speaking it aloud triggered a rush of memories she'd been trying to suppress.
Her parents' voices rose in her mind, pleading and desperate.
"Kaela, you have to try it! The therapists said—"
"I don't need help!" she'd yelled back, her voice cracking under the strain. "I'm fine. Just… stop pushing me!"
But she hadn't been fine. The dissociation had grown worse, leaving her adrift from her own emotions. She knew it, and they knew it too. That was why they'd brought up Limbus—the experimental VR system designed to help people like her. The therapists insisted it was her best shot at healing before her condition spiraled further. But Kaela hated the idea of relying on something so invasive, something that felt like giving up control.
She clenched her fists at the memory of her parents' pleading faces, their frustration and helplessness etched into their expressions. They'd only wanted to help, but she'd shut them out.
The cat's voice broke through her thoughts. "So, you fought them, huh?" It stopped and turned to face her, its glowing blue eyes piercing yet calm.
Kaela blinked, startled. "What… How do you know?"
The cat smirked—or at least, it felt like it did. "This place is built on your fragments, remember? Your memories, your feelings, even the ones you don't want to admit to yourself. They're all here."
Kaela glanced down at the rippling surface beneath her feet. For a split second, she saw the reflection of herself yelling, her parents on either side of her, their faces etched with worry. The image broke apart as quickly as it had appeared.
She exhaled shakily, her voice quieter now. "I didn't want to admit I needed help. I thought I could fix myself on my own."
The cat padded closer and sat in front of her, its tail curling neatly around its paws. "And now?"
Kaela looked ahead at the glowing path stretching into the endless dark. The thought of retreating back to the void was suffocating. "Now… I don't know. But I'm here, aren't I?"
The cat stood, turning back toward the path. "Good enough for now. Just don't stop walking. We've got a lot of ground to cover."
Kaela followed, each step feeling heavier as the memories pressed against her. But she kept going, the faint light of the path keeping the darkness at bay."Let's see if this works," she whispered.